


Swearing by the Moon

by Khriskin



Series: The Secret Lives of Superheroes [11]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:04:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khriskin/pseuds/Khriskin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,</i><br/>That monthly changes in her circled orb,<br/>Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.<br/>- Romeo and Juliet: Act 2, Scene 2</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swearing by the Moon

If demons were wolves and humans dogs, then Faith was somewhere in-between; feral and unpredictable. These days she's more dog than wolf, but sometimes not enough to matter. Not on nights like this, when the moon was full and the world offered up targets for her poorly muzzled fury.

He matches her blow for blow, though never kill for kill, in a softer echo of her anger. Not because he doesn't have as much reason, the dark buried his life just as deep as hers. Only he chose that life, chose to stand in the way of the dark, chose to do what he could in spite of the consequences; she never did. 

He can walk away from this, she never can.

She'd tried to kill him once, years ago, and that's hard to forget sometimes. Even in the middle of nowhere their world still revolves around violence, and she's really _really_ good at violence. But the edge is gone, dulled somehow, somewhere, and the sparks of berserker fury are only sparks and no longer the all consuming fire.

She'd stood by them in the pit; stayed with them against impossible odds, and if he believed in Angel's redemption (not much) and Spike's (even less) then he had to give her the benefit of the doubt. She'd earned that, keeps earning it every day, every mile. 

And little by little the wolf fades... except for times like now. Now in the bright flares of _purpose_ that leave her laughing, joyous in the rightness off the roles she's been assigned. 

And when she says she loves him, after the rush of almost dying had ebbed, and she was sprawled against him in the backseat, drunk and tired and reduced to whispering secrets in the dark, he chalked it up to the moon and the wolf, and tried not to wonder if she'd mean it later.


End file.
